The Malfoy Way
by MischiefManaged007
Summary: "..it is the Malfoy way - and in case you haven't noticed, we all turned out fine." Draco's entire life has been dictated by the Malfoy way. Ficlets of this life.


_**ARGH! So, I was attempting to change the genre ended up deleting instead! Note to self - do not leave laptop unattended when a cat is in the room...**_

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_**_**Draco's entire life has been dictated by the Malfoy Way - for better or for worse. Ficlet snapshots through his life.**_**_

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_**T**__**he Malfoy Way**_

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"Magdalene, could you pass the birth registration form for room sixty six?"

A rustling sound emits as the papers are piled to hand to the other healer.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy?" Magdalene questions as she reads over the forms. "What a ridiculous name. Sounds like some sort of foreign prince."

"Well get this, the father is called _Lucius_ and the mother is called _Narcissa_!"

Magdalene chortles before putting on her most prim and proper accent. "Oho! Only the best name of _all_ for our little prince – it _is _the Malfoy way!"

The two healers collapse into fits of giggles.

x

x

A baby cries out through the night, the intensity of his sobs increasing.

"Lucius," a woman grips her husband's arm, shaking him awake. "We can't just leave him. He's getting more and more upset. Just this one time – I promise I'll put him straight back down – "

"No, Narcissa," he says firmly, "I've told you. The best way is to let him cry himself to sleep. It encourages reliance if we comfort him; he'll expect us to go to him every time he cries. He won't ever stop doing it."

She continues desperately, "Please, it can't be good for him to be alone. He's our son, what if he really is – "

"Narcissa. He is fine. Our whole family line has done the same: it is the Malfoy way - and in case you haven't noticed, we all turned out fine. Now, go to sleep." He rolls over, facing away from her.

Narcissa lies flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. In her head, she whispers words of comfort to her son until his sobs subside.

She doesn't sleep that night.

x

x

"Tell me about Hogwarts again."

Narcissa raises her eyebrow and nearly laughs at the whimsical expression on the five year olds face. "Again, Draco?"

"Yes," he says bossily, kneeling in front of her, gripping her knees with his hands.

"Well, it's a magical place, for magical people – just like you."

"And you, Mother!"

"Yes –"

"And Father!"

"Yes and –"

"And Aunt Bella!"

"Draco! What have I said about interrupting? Do you want to hear or not?"

"Yes, Mother." Draco pleads solemnly.

"Once you get to the castle, you'll be sorted into a house by the school sorting hat."

"Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor," he recites, bobbing his head with each word.

She ruffles his hair, "Exactly right, dear."

"Mother, which house will I be in?"

"You shall be a Slytherin – and a great one at that."

"But…" he looks worried, "How do you know that?"

"I just know, Draco."

"But, how?"

"I was a Slytherin, so was your father and Grandfather Abraxas. Every Malfoy has been in Slytherin – it's just the Malfoy way."

He gazes at her thoughtfully, "_Every_ Malfoy?"

"Every good one."

Draco draws himself up to his full height, "Then I shall be the greatest Slytherin there is."

Narcissa smiles at her son, "That's my boy."

x

x

Every year, precisely two days before term starts, the four house heads meet in the Hogwarts staff room and discuss orientation methods for new students.

"Filius, there's a new transfer student from Beauxbatons," Minera says as she consults the parchment in front of her, "Based on his records and profile, most likely a Ravenclaw."

"Year?"

"Third."

He nods and jots down a note, mentally compiling a list of possible students he could ask to help settle the transfer student in to his new school.

"Now, as for the first years," Minerva continues, "A few Muggleborns this year – most seemed well adjusted when I told them. Finch-Fletchley seemed the most shocked so keep an eye on him, make sure he's coping," A scratch of quill on parchment can be heard as the fellow heads note this down.

Pomona Sprout's eyes continue to travel down her parchment, surveying the names on the list. "Abbott, Longbottom, Goyle…Lots of heritage this year… Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Pomona, and we are under Professor Dumbledore's orders to treat him like any other student and we ought -"

"I want him!"

Filius wiggles about his seat, "Pomona, there is no doubt in my mind that Potter will be a Ravenclaw! His mother and father were so smart…"

"Well," Severus drawls, "You three can fight amongst yourselves for him. I don't want him."

"Why on earth not, Severus?"

"If he's anything like his father he'll be trouble from the start. I would rather a Malfoy to a Potter any day of the week."

Pomona scoffs, "Like you _wouldn't_ get the Malfoy. Has there ever been one that wasn't in Slytherin?"

"No," Severus snarls, "It is the Malfoy way, just like it is the Weasley way to fall face first into Gryffindor."

"Still," Pomona carries on, "Imagine Lucius Malfoy's face if his only son was sorted into Hufflepuff. Or better yet, Gryffindor!"

Filius chortles so much he falls off his chair.

x

x

Draco attempts to loosen his tie; his mother slaps his hand away and gives him a look. His father's cane pokes him in the back, forcing him to stand up straight.

He hates these visits.

Yes, the Parkinson's had a nice house and their house elf does make a delicious chocolate torte but even chocolate couldn't rid his mouth of the foul taste that was Pansy Parkinson.

"Be nice," his mother whispers as if she's reading his thoughts.

"Why? _Why_ do we have to see them so often? Mother, I know that you don't like Mr. Parkinson that much so why must we –"

"The Parkinson's are a lovely family and you should get to know Pansy before…"

"Before what, mother?"

"Well…"

"Draco," Lucius interjects, "You and Pansy are intended."

"Intended to hate each other for the rest of our lives?"

"Intended to be married." Draco's jaw drops. "The Parkinson's are a family of pure blood, good fortune and are well respected. She is the best match for you."

"You mean I have to marry Pansy Parkinson?"

"Yes," says Lucius curtly.

Draco continues to gape. "I don't get to choose who I marry?"

"The best families do this Draco. Have you ever wondered why pureblood families remain pure and respected? Because we do this. It is the Malfoy way and it works every time."

Draco stops listening as he pictures a miserable life with Pansy Parkinson.

x

x

"So what was that one called?" Asks Blaise, shutting the dormitory door after the blonde who had just exited.

Draco merely smirks as he straightens his bedcovers.

"What was she, third this week?"

"Fourth, actually."

"Merlin, how do you get away with it? I so much as look at another girl and Padma threaten to hex my balls off. More than that, how do you convince them? Your reputation kind of precedes you."

"My reputation of being a beautiful lady killer?" Draco wiggles his hips suggestively.

"More like a disgusting man slag."

"You are mistaken. And to answer your question, it is the Malfoy way; I use my good looks and intellect to charm my way in and then my skills in _other areas_ make sure they leave happy, content and ensure a recommendation to their friends."

"The 'Malfoy way' is foul and sounds like a sure bet way to attract some questionable diseases. I've said it before, I'll say it again – disgusting."

Draco sways his hips again, "You're just jealous that I haven't had my way with _you_, Zabini."

Blaise hurls a pillow at his head.

x

x

He can't sleep.

When he does manage to drift off, his dreams are inhabited with broken cabinets, hissing snakes and the gaunt face of his father.

He can't eat.

Anything he attempts to swallow fights its way back up. He makes a great show of eating his mother's homemade chocolate ice cream _"Your favourite"_ she pronounces happily, placing a huge bowl in front of him. He smiles weakly, forcing it down then hurries to the bathroom, throwing up the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He can't laugh.

Not even when Weasley manages to fall face first into his cauldron. Pansy manages to turn her hair mustard and he can't even smirk. When Blaise tells him his favourite joke about the mudblood and the Hippogriff he almost smiles, it feels strange.

He can barely speak.

No clever quips or insults spring to his mind. He can't muster the energy to suck up to Slughorn or stand up to Snape, tell him to back off. His mother asks how he is going, wonders if she can help; he can only pat her shoulder. Pansy asks him why he's doing it. He mutters about it being the Malfoy way: to please the Dark Lord, to succeed in all they do. It's an honour. _"I __can__ do it. Malfoy's __don'__t fail." _Neither knows if he is speaking to Pansy or himself.

He can hardly think.

The room. The cabinet. The Dark Lord. The mark. His father. Family honour. The Malfoy way. His mother's worried face. Failure.

No.

Start again.

The room. The cabinet. Failure…

x

x

Green eyes. Out of control black hair. The smallest glimpse of a scar.

Draco knows it from the second he sees him. He's spent years loathing the very sight of Potter. He could turn him in. It could all be over. Yet he can't.

"Is it him? Is it the Potter boy?" Aunt Bella hisses in his ear.

It was like an outer body experience.

He pauses and stares at Potter. Draco has spent his whole life hating this boy on principle. It was the Malfoy way to honour the Dark Lord, to promote a pure wizarding race. He could bring the resistance down; right here, right now.

"I can't be sure," he finds himself mumbling.

His father hurries forward whispering to him. He says they could please the Dark Lord, restore the family name.

_This_ is more the Malfoy way: fake it until you make it, suck up, grovel. Take credit for the work of others. Reputation is the only thing that matters. Step over _all_ for the promise of glory or gold. No friends, no relationships only pride and greed.

Just when Draco realises _why_ he fits into this family, he realises he doesn't want to be a Malfoy.

x

x

"Hi."

"Go away."

"That's a bit rude."

"Saving us both some time."

"How's that?" Astoria questions, sitting down opposite Draco, playing with the umbrella in her drink happily. He raises his eyebrow at her. She crinkles her nose at him. "I don't remember you being this grumpy at school." He moves to stand up. "Hey!" She grabs his arm, "Where are you going? You didn't answer my question."

He shakes her off, "I'm not good company."

She smiles, "I'll be the judge of that."

"I don't need a judge, I know."

"How?"

"I'm a bad person."

This statement shocks her; it's not what she expects from _Sir Ego_ himself.

"And how do you know that?"

He downs the rest of his drink and lowers his face so their eyes are level. His grey eyes meet her green; it gives her chills. "You really want to know?"

"Try me. Why are you a bad person, Draco?"

"Because, it's the Malfoy way."

x

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><p><strong><em>I'm not the biggest fan of Draco but I do pity him and believe his actions were a product of the environment he was raised in. I hope I managed to characterise him well enough and that this piece seemed somewhat realistic. <em>**

**_Thank you for reading!_**


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